Thirteen year old Bobby Bain is helpful, friendly, well-loved by all. Bobby also has a dark side. He lures his girlfriend into the blackness of an abandoned coal mine, rapes her and then maneuvers her into the open mouth of a deep elevator shaft-down, down to her death. Months later Bobby watches Internal Revenue agents sell his father's machine shop for back taxes. And then he finds his father dying at the end of a rope, a suicide. Bobby swears vengeance-he will kill federal tax collectors. Years pass and Bobby embarks on his mission. He kills two IRS agents and others in spectacular ways, leaving no clues to his identity. Federal and local lawmen join forces and get on the killer's trail. The action rages across Ohio to the abandoned coal mine where young Bobby did his first killing.

Tax Collectors ... and Other Sinners

By Wayne Vinson

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Wayne Vinson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4567-3429-9

Chapter One

Thursday, May 24, 1956

Thirteen year old Bobby Bain straddled his bike at the edge of the garden and watched his neighbor, Willard, examine a tomato plant. The boy asked, "What're you doing?"

"Lookin' fer a tomato worm. See this branch? No leaves on it. Tomato worm ate 'em. Now I gotta find the worm ... there he is."

Willard, a grandfatherly fellow in his early sixties, broke off a small piece of plant and held it up to Bobby. A green worm, three inches long and thick as a man's finger, clung to the branch.

"He's camouflaged. Whoa—he's got a horn, too. Do they stick you?"

"Naw." Willard laid the worm on the ground and stomped hard.

Bobby said, "Yuuuck," and changed the subject. "Can I borrow your tire pump?"

"Sure. Tomorrow's the last day of school, huh?"

"Yep."

"They gonna have a picnic?"

"I guess so."

"Think you passed?"

"Willard—you know I did."

The old man chuckled. "The pump's in the garage. Put it back when you're done. I gotta finish this before Sadie calls me in fer supper."

Bobby pumped up his tires and rode out Willard's lane. At the road, he turned toward home and pedaled hard until he came to a thicket. He stopped and waited for a car to pass. When it was out of sight he lifted his bike over the fence and pushed it through a tangle of sassafras trees and wild grape vines, hard going until he got to a path. He followed it into a small clearing. Brenda Kellum, his 12 year old pal, was already there, sitting on a log. Bobby laid his bike over and sat by her.

She said, "Why don't you show me today?"

"I can't. My dad promised to help me work on something. I'll show you tomorrow."

"Come on, Bobby. At least tell me what it is."

"Well ... what'll you show me?"

"Just for telling me what it is? Nothing. Besides, I already showed you my thingy."

"Yeah, and you told and my dad whipped me. He really hurt me."

"Well, you hurt me when you stuck your finger in there."

"I was just trying to get your pants down."

Which wasn't true. Her panties had already been way down when he decided to see how far he could get his finger in. Now he waited for a cutting rebuttal which didn't come. Encouraged, he slid his eyes down her dress. "Did you wear any today?"

She grinned. "I'll show you if you tell me what it is."

He considered. "Okay. It's a secret tunnel."

"Phooey. Some dinky little tunnel. That's nothing."

"Yes it is. It's the biggest tunnel, probably in the world."

"Oh, sure." But she was impressed.

Bobby said, "Now you gotta show me if you wore 'em."

Brenda took hold of the bottom of her dress, yanked it up to her waist and right back down in one lightening motion. Bobby got a split-second look at her panties.

"Hey, that's not fair."

"Is, too. I wore 'em and I showed you."

"Well, I dare you not to wear any to school tomorrow. I double-dare you."

"Maybe I won't ... if you show me something really special."

"It will be. I got it all figgered out. In the morning, we go on the bus like usual. I'll stay at school and come home on the bus. But you sneak off early and come back through the woods. That way your mom won't be able to give you something to do when you get off the bus."

Brenda thought it was brilliant. "Yeah. So then we meet here?"

"No, not here. Under the shop in the old basement."

"Ooooo ... spooky."

"Naw, just dark. But you can't let anybody see you go in there. Stay in the woods until you're in back of the barn. Then just go in the door. There ain't any windows in back so nobody'll see you. I'll meet you in there."

"Is that where the tunnel is?"

"I'll show you tomorrow. You gotta promise you won't ever tell anyone. Promise?"

Brenda put her right hand behind her back and crossed her fingers. "I promise."

Bobby jerked her arm around and saw the crossed fingers. He said, "I mean it, Brenda," and gave her a look so black it scared her. She raised both hands up in his face, fingers spread wide, and said, "I won't ever tell anybody about your tunnel."

"Okay, then. I gotta go. Dad's probably waiting on me."

She gave him an impish smile. "Bye, Bobby. See you tomorrow."

He said, "Remember—no pants," and pushed his bike along the path toward the road.

An hour later Curt Bain and Bobby were in the welding shop—a converted barn—working on name tags. Curt had cut off a small piece of aluminum and was watching his son chisel "Bobby" on it. Finished, he held it up for inspection.

His dad said, "Well, I can read it."

"It's not very good, Dad."

"You can make it better. Grind off the corners and file the edges. But you can't improve the name much. What you should do is write the letters on first. Then you can change anything that doesn't look good before you use the chisel."

"Okay. Cut another one."

Curt cut several more blanks.

Bobby made one with "Dad" on it.

Curt said, "Much better. Listen, I gotta go check on your mother. How about making one with "Mom" on it? She'd like that."

Curt left and Bobby finished several more tags: "Mom," "Willard and Sadie," and another "Bobby." He made a "Brenda" and stuck it in his pocket. The Brenda tag was the best but he didn't show it to his dad when Curt returned.

The next day went according to plan. In the morning the kids met with their teachers who passed out final report cards with those all important boxes checked "promoted" or "failed." There were few failures and fewer surprises. Most of the flunkees already knew they'd be back in the same rooms in the fall.

The kids spent the rest of the morning in the school yard anticipating three months of freedom and burning off energy. They came in for lunch with ice cream and cake. After that it was play time until the buses came to take them home. Bobby saw Brenda from time to time—she was hard to miss in a bright yellow dress—but he stayed away from her. At some point she slipped away.

Bobby walked along the back of the barn to the door, stopped and looked behind him. The coast was clear. Inside, he closed the door, reached above it and took down a flashlight. He shined it around and spotted Brenda standing in a corner.

She said, "I've been here forever. And I'm scared of spiders."

"I stopped at the shop and told dad I was going over to Willard's, so he won't wonder where I am while we're in the tunnel."

Brenda was still pouting. "Well, where is it?"

"Back there." He led her along the wall to some old farm equipment, handed her the light and got down on his hands and knees.

"Shine it down here."

She put the light on the wall and saw nothing but an inch of space under the bottom board. "That's the tunnel?" Bobby said, "Huh—watch this." He put his hands under the board and pulled off a short section, making an entry a foot and a half high. "In there."

"No way. My mom will kill me if I ruin this school dress."

"Take it off."

"You wish."

"You're not gonna ruin your dress. You just have to get under the wall then you can stand up again."...